


Making Each Day

by Sass_Master



Series: Dream of Now [10]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Established Relationship, Frottage, Gay Bar, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-19
Updated: 2017-09-19
Packaged: 2018-12-31 13:49:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12133827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sass_Master/pseuds/Sass_Master
Summary: He can’t believe they’re even having this conversation. Dean had been innocently minding his own business, putting laundry in the dryer, when Charlie had suddenly materialized beside him with aplan.A completely ridiculous plan that he rejected immediately, not that it slowed her down any. To Dean’s utter dismay, it seems like no matter what he does, Charlie is not going to let up on trying to sell him on her latest bright idea – her taking Dean and Cas on a ‘fun night out.’At agay bar.





	Making Each Day

**Author's Note:**

> Year Two of my belated (in my timezone) posting of a DeanCas fic on the most important of holidays.

“C’mon, Dean. Seriously, it’ll be fun!”

Dean had always thought that he and Charlie saw eye-to-eye on a lot of things, but now he’s starting to realize that they have very different definitions of the word _fun_.

“Yeah, I heard you the first twelve times,” he grumbles under his breath.

“Oh, I know you heard me,” Charlie says brightly, undeterred by his repeated efforts to shut the conversation down or make a swift escape. “But I don’t think you’re listening.”

“I’m not listening because it’s a _stupid idea_.”

He can’t believe they’re even having this conversation. Dean had been innocently minding his own business, putting laundry in the dryer, when Charlie had suddenly materialized beside him with a _plan._

A completely ridiculous plan that he rejected immediately, not that it slowed her down any. To Dean’s utter dismay, it seems like no matter what he does, Charlie is not going to let up on trying to sell him on her latest bright idea – her taking Dean and Cas on a ‘fun night out.’

At a _gay bar_.

Dean doesn’t know where the hell Charlie gets these notions from, or why she has to drag Dean into her shenanigans, but damn if she isn’t persistent.

Apparently Dean’s initial response of, “Oh hell no,” wasn’t clear enough, because instead of  taking him at his word and dropping the subject like a _good_ friend would do, Charlie proceeded to follow him around the bunker, trying to plead her case. By now Charlie’s been on his ass about this for so long that the wet clothes he’d been pulling out of the wash when she first ambushed him are already dry and folded.

Charlie scoffs. “It wouldn’t sound stupid if you’d just hear me out.”

Dean can admit to himself that that’s a perfectly reasonable point, but he sure as hell doesn’t admit it to her. He rolls his eyes instead, putting the last stack of t-shirts away and closing the dresser drawer with an air of finality. “Pass.” He doesn’t have nearly enough energy to be dealing with this right now, he decides, leaving his bedroom in search of food. If he’s going to be harassed all afternoon, he might as well do it with a full stomach.

“You know I’m going to talk you into it,” Charlie says matter-of-factly, trailing behind him as he ducks into the kitchen and makes a beeline to the fridge.

There’s no debating that; Dean is well aware that Charlie’s both relentless and very endearing when she wants to be, a dangerous combo that’s already working its way through his resolve, just like it always does. She knows that as stubborn as Dean is, he has a hard time saying no to her, and she’s completely shameless about taking advantage.

Charlie sighs, and for the first time, Dean starts to hear a bit of frustration in her voice. “I don’t know why you have to pretend to put up a fight.”

Dean swings the fridge door open with the intention of blocking her out, but now that she’s got him thinking about it, staring morosely at a sad-looking leftover sandwich, he’s not sure why he’s being so resistant either. Maybe it’s still a force of habit, being contrary and grumpy for the sake of appearances, no matter how obvious it is that it’s just an act. Even he doesn’t entirely understand why he does the things he does, but that doesn’t exactly stop him.

It is kind of fun to watch her try so hard to win him over. For a second, he wonders just how desperate she’s going to get. Maybe if he holds out a little longer, she’ll resort to bribery. He could definitely make that work in his favor, maybe get her to do the dishes for a month, or get him that pecan pie from the _good_ bakery, the one almost an hour away…

But when she huffs an impatient, “ _Dean_ ,” behind him, he realizes he’s only delaying the inevitable. He slowly closes the refrigerator, not turning to look at her but very aware of her hovering at his elbow. “Where would we even go?” he asks flatly. The question was meant to appear rhetorical, but in all seriousness, what even makes her think this plan is even doable? Their neck of the woods isn’t exactly known for its vibrant nightlife.

Dean can see Charlie grin in his peripheral vision, and he knows he’s made a mistake: engaging with her has given her an opening, and she’s ready to pounce and close the deal. “For real?” she asks, eyebrows raised. “You know there’s a place like a half hour from here, right?”

Dean finally turns and looks at her, caught off-guard. He most certainly did _not_ know that. “Why would I?” he mutters, defensive. “I’m not looking for anything like that. I’m, y’know—” he hesitates here, unsure of his wording. “You know. Spoken for.”

His face is on fire right now, no matter how damn hard he tries to will his blush away, and if he weren’t embarrassed enough that he actually said that, the sappy expression that Charlie melts into would definitely be flat-out mortifying. He knows she only refrains from cooing _awww_ out loud because she’s trying to stay on his good side.

Charlie’s grin softens, the tone of her voice more sincere. “You know, hooking up or meeting people isn’t the only reason those places exist,” she explains, a placating hand on Dean’s arm as she looks him dead in the eye. “Sometimes you just wanna have a drink with that _special someone_ where no one’s gonna be a dick about it.”

Dean blinks at her, frowning. That’s… _huh._ He’s never really thought about it that way. Then again, whatever experience he does have with those kinds of places is a far cry from what Charlie’s describing. Those were different circumstances, and he can’t say that his memories of those excursions are completely positive. He can’t recall one instance where he wasn’t just… _scared,_ paralyzed with shame and almost sick to his stomach at the very idea of it. But the superficial thrill, the fleeting spark of bravado, was at least enough to get him through the door – because despite the doubt, despite the insistent voice in the back of his mind that told him this kind of stuff was wrong, he was always too desperate, too curious to walk away.

The only people there were just like him, men who knew what they wanted even if they couldn’t come to terms with it, or at least couldn’t allow themselves to have it any other, healthier way. It wasn’t the sort of place a guy would go to for the ambiance or the signature cocktails, and the closest thing to conversation was a brazen, lingering stare, a furtive nod of the head before a sleazy encounter in the men’s room. That part could definitely be fun while it lasted, the kind of excitement and danger that hunting never offered him. But once it was over, he’d just skulk away and pretend it didn’t happen, until he worked up the nerve to try again and start the whole messy process anew, telling himself that no, really, this’ll be the last time.

“Really though,” Charlie continues, breaking Dean out of his thoughts. “How often do you get to go somewhere with Cas without looking over your shoulder for boogiemen? And I’m not talking about monsters, I mean like, you know,” she gestures vaguely. “Jerks.”

“Well, sometimes we—” Dean could have sworn he had a rebuttal on the tip of his tongue, some clear-cut example of how he and Cas get to do that kind of stuff all the time, thank you very much, but he comes up short. Because there’s no denying that when he and Cas go on the occasional… _date_ , Dean keeps everything carefully controlled—casual setting, non-romantic atmosphere, the bare minimum of physical contact. And even then, Dean’s not sure if they’re being inconspicuous enough. Maybe the reason he’s being difficult about Charlie’s proposition isn’t so mysterious after all.

“Cas already said he’s cool with it,” Charlie chimes in with a benign smile. She’s not gloating about her impending victory – not yet – but she can definitely tell that she’s wearing him down. “And I’ll take care of the driving. Hell, I’ll even pick up the tab. That’s how much I like you losers.”

Dean swallows hard, overwhelmed by a rush of vulnerability that he wouldn’t have predicted when Charlie first sidled up to him with a conspiratorial gleam in her eyes. It might be nice to feel normal for once. Dean’s life is already so far removed from normal to begin with, but that’s something he came to terms with a long time ago. It’s just this particular part he’s still working on. As much as he’d like to say otherwise, those hang-ups aren’t entirely behind him, but he’s come pretty far, and now that he’s opened his mind to the idea, he has to admit that Charlie’s made a lot of good points. Besides, at the end of the day, it just feels idiotic to keep the best thing that’s ever happened to him hidden away like a shameful secret.

“I’m gonna run up the bill,” Dean threatens. He’s not technically agreeing, but judging by the victorious look on Charlie’s face, she gets the message. “Gonna order the most expensive shit they have and not even drink it, just to spite you.”

“Whatever makes you happy,” Charlie replies with a satisfied grin, fondly patting him on the cheek. “I mean it though. It’ll be fun, I _promise_.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he grouses, batting her hand away. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

*   *   *

Dean spends the rest of the day twisting himself into knots then talking himself down, only to get wound up all over again. He has definitely not been dissuaded from his gut feeling that this is a terrible idea, and it only seems like a worse disaster now that he’s actually planning on going through with it. Cas, of course, is sympathetic to Dean’s anxieties, but he’s experiencing none of them himself, and Dean can’t decide if that’s comforting or really fucking annoying. How does he keep ending up as the most neurotic person in the room? That’s so unfair.

Although… maybe it won’t be _too_ bad. This is Charlie he’s dealing with here, and she’s never given him a reason not to trust her.

That thought only consoles him very briefly, because by the time the three of them have piled into Charlie’s car, Dean’s started to psych himself out all over again. What kind of place even is this? It’s starting to hit him how limited the scope of experience is with this type of thing, just how small his comfort zone’s been this whole time. For all he knows, he could be walking into some insane, “trendy” nightclub shit that even he can admit he’s too old for. Loud music’s great when it’s actually _music_ , but he doesn’t love the idea of auto-tune and synth bass pounding in his ears all night and _oh god_ there’d probably be a dance floor too and he is not at all prepared to get swept up in a giant mass of sweaty bodies. Dean genuinely thinks he might be in over his head, but just as he’s contemplating a daring escape, they roll to a stop at their destination.

Dean eyes the façade of the building warily, but he can’t really get a read on it. It could… it could literally be a fucking rave in there – is that still a thing? Do people still call it that? “If I see one glow stick, I’m outta here,” he abruptly announces once they’re out of the car. He didn’t exactly mean to say it out loud like that, but he might as well give them fair warning.

Charlie shoots Dean a look over her shoulder as she approaches the door. “Okay, weirdo.”

Dean stops for a second and takes a deep breath, calming even further when Cas hangs back beside him.

“Are you all right?” Cas asks, one warm hand on Dean’s shoulder.

“I’m okay,” Dean answers reflexively, and it’s not entirely a lie. Well, okay, Dean might be freaking out just a little, but Cas’s touch is soothing, and just having him here lets Dean clear his head enough to have a little perspective. He’s soldiered through way more difficult situations than this one. Everything is under control. “Let’s do this,” he says, managing a smile for Cas before following Charlie.

Logically, he knows Charlie well enough to assume she wouldn’t take him anywhere too crazy – wouldn’t even be interested in that kind of thing herself, probably – but he’s still bracing himself for the possibility of something horrifying as he takes a deep breath and steps inside.

“Oh.”

It’s just… a bar. Maybe a bit nicer and more crowded than the type of dives he’s used to, but still. Just a normal bar.

Charlie gives him another funny look. “What?”

Dean shrugs as they take a seat at the bar. “Not what I was expecting.”

Charlie just looks more confused. “What do you mean? What were you—” She cuts herself off, understanding dawning on her face. “Wait, did you think I was taking you to a warehouse party or something? Is that what the glowstick thing was about?” She pauses to laugh, not unkindly. “Oh my god, could you _imagine_ the two of you in a place like that?”

Dean’s about to take offense and argue that he’s _totally_ hip enough for a place like that, but then he realizes how ridiculously uncool that would make him sound.

Charlie’s face softens, her laughter dying down. “I know I like to mess with you, Dean, but I’d never do that to you.”

“I know,” Dean sighs, scrubbing a hand across his face. “I just… wasn’t totally sure.”

“Well, this must be a hell of a relief for you then,” she teases.

Dean swallows, forcing out a weak laugh. “Yeah.”

“But…?” Charlie prompts him, picking up on his uncertainty.

“Still kinda weird to me,” he mumbles. It’s not that he isn’t relieved; he’s definitely glad that this isn’t his worst-case, nightmare scenario, but it’s still not the kind of place he’s used to.

“How so?”

Dean doesn’t know how explain it without revealing more than he wants to about the things he used to get up to, so he casts around for something relatively safe. “There’s a lot of, uh—” The word _chicks_ is on the tip of his tongue before he remembers who he’s talking to. “Women.”

Charlie snorts. “Well, duh. Did you see a _no girls allowed_ sign on the door?”

Dean narrows his eyes. “ _No_ , I just—”

Charlie puts her hand on Dean’s arm, taking pity on him because he must look genuinely flummoxed. “I told you, dude, it’s not that kinda place.”

Looks like he doesn’t need to get into the sordid details for her to know what he’s getting at. Should he be scared that she can read his mind? Between her and Cas he’s got no damn secrets left. Then again, maybe that’s not such a bad thing. Keeping everything locked up tight gets exhausting.

“And yeah, it’s not just for guys,” Charlie continues. “It’s for, y’know. All of us.”

Dean nods. “Yeah that… makes sense.” It makes a lot of sense, actually. He wishes he’d had someplace like this when he was younger, somewhere he could hang out without the crippling self-loathing – given… _options_ other than unhappy closet cases, able to find some normal man or woman who wanted to buy him a drink and actually talk to him like a person.

“We can leave if you want,” Charlie offers gently. “I don’t wanna make you stay if it’s too weird for you. But I remember what it was like when I was in your shoes, learning how _awesome_ it can be to enjoy the night in peace for once. Because you’re, you know, surrounded by your peers.”

Dean figures there was a time when he would’ve protested the idea of his “peers” being the patrons of a gay bar, but he’s starting to get over that, and right now it just feels good to hear Charlie say it, that she thinks of them as alike in that way. That stubborn knot in his stomach starts to loosen, just a bit, enough for him to settle more comfortably in his seat, let his fists unclench. “Yeah,” Dean mumbles, feeling guilty that he’s been such a pain in the ass when Charlie’s really doing this for his sake. “Might be nice.”

Charlie smiles. “I wanted to take you guys somewhere you can be yourselves with each other,” she says, a bit of emotion sneaking into her voice. “You deserve that.”

Dean swallows past the lump forming in his own throat and pastes on an obnoxious grin. “Awww, you love us,” he teases.

Charlie glares at him. “Lies and slander,” she says haughtily. “And anyway, if you’re gonna hang out with your cute gay friend – who so _generously_ offered to drive and pay, by the way – it’d be pretty rude to take her somewhere with no viable eye candy.” It’s hard to miss the way her gaze has started wandering to the bartender serving a customer a few seats down.

“Found some already, huh?” Dean asks, raising his eyebrows. She’s definitely hot, someone he’d call ‘his type,’ not that he’s ever been known for being _super_ picky. The time when he would’ve been right there with Charlie, ready to throw out a cheesy line, feels like a damn lifetime ago. And he can’t lie, he doesn’t miss it. “Well, you’ve got good taste.”

“I know, right?” Charlie says playfully before redirecting her attention again, looking determined.

Dean leaves her to it, because speaking of eye candy— Dean’s been so busy freaking out that he’s barely said a word to Cas since they got here, but when he turns to his right, he’s surprised to see that Cas already has a tumbler in hand.

“You started without us?” he asks with a teasing smirk. “Always knew you were the wild one.”

“I didn’t mean to start without you,” Cas replies, almost suspiciously casual. “That man over there bought this for me.”

Dean swears he hears the proverbial record scratch as his brain processes that information. “What?” he asks, too quick and too sharp to be nonchalant. “Who?”

Cas doesn’t answer him, just quirks an eyebrow in a way that Dean’s getting better at reading, but this is untested territory. He’s probably gauging Dean’s reaction, and he’s not sure what Cas is hoping for, but he can’t contain the kneejerk pang of jealousy, that sneaky sense of insecurity that takes over swiftly without his permission.

Dean’s eyes follow Cas’s until they land on the man in question, who visibly perks up when he realizes that Cas is looking his way. Surprisingly, Dean has a sudden moment of empathy – he knows how overwhelming it is to have Cas’s focus on you, even for a second – but his petty side takes over real quick and he squares his jaw, scooting closer to Cas. The blooming hope on the guy’s face evaporates, and he visibly deflates in disappointment as Cas turns his attention to Dean instead.

Dean almost feels bad. _Almost_. “Geez, Cas,” he says with a faint laugh. “Haven’t even been here five minutes and you’re already breaking hearts.” Never mind that Dean was kind of responsible for the heartbreak here.

Cas just shrugs and takes another sip of his drink. “I’m sure he’ll survive.”

Cas is definitely right about that. Dean can already see that the guy’s wandered to another corner of the room, chatting up someone who seems a lot more receptive than Cas.

Dean knows his jealousy is mildly ridiculous to begin with, but seeing Cas’s utter lack of interest is still a relief.

It occurs to him how usually when they go out he tries to downplay his relationship with Cas for the sake of his own comfort, and here he finds himself tempted to flaunt it. Maybe he’s overreacting. In his experiences a move like buying a drink for a guy would be a blatant proposition or something, but it’s different here—probably not in a bad way, but he’s still adjusting. There are a lot of confusing, even conflicting feelings pulling at him at simultaneously and he’d really like to filter out the negative ones and mold this evening into a positive experience. Maybe a drink would help. The point of this, according to Charlie, was to lighten up and have a little fun. He still has his doubts about that, but he can at least _try_.

He orders a double whiskey from the bartender – the one that Charlie isn’t currently flirting with – and knocks it back in one swig. He lets out a slow breath, comforted by Cas’s elbow bumping into his, Charlie’s cheerful, relaxed voice making conversation on his other side, the swift dose of liquid courage taking the edge off just the way it’s supposed to.

As soon as he sets the tumbler on the bar top, Charlie glances over. “Hey,” she says, cluing back in now that the bartender is off filling up pitchers of beer. “I told you I was treating. Let me get you something.”

Dean agrees vaguely, leg jostling on the barstool, trying to glance around and take it all in without staring. It’s like Charlie said, it’s just a regular bar, it’s just… Dean doesn’t have to worry here. It’s a fear he’s carried around for so long that its absence hasn’t totally sunk in yet. There’s a couple of women cozied up in a booth nearby, two guys resting their interlaced hands on the countertop. It still doesn’t totally feel real; he can be here with his—…with _Cas_ , and no one’ll even give them a second glance.

“Cheers,” Charlie says, bringing him back to reality. She passes him a drink just like the one she’s gotten for herself, a hurricane glass filled with something bright pink and topped with a cherry. It’s even got a little cocktail umbrella.

Dean frowns at it. “Seriously?”

Charlie ignores him, taking a quick taste of her cocktail. She makes a noise of approval, pointing to the glass emphatically as she swallows. “Oh man, if this is my one drink for the night then I have chosen well.”

Dean eyes his own drink judgmentally and looks around, very aware of how many people are in this bar.

Charlie elbows him. “Dude, did you forget where we are right now? No one’s gonna care what color your drink is,” she says with a laugh, because of course she’s completely seen through him. “They’re really good,” she sing-songs, swirling her straw around and sampling some more to illustrate her point. “Don’t be an idiot.”

As wary as Dean still is – he knows all too well just how stubborn certain old habits can be – he _just_ made a promise to himself to try, so he takes a tentative sip. Only to appease Charlie, of course.

Charlie raises her eyebrows at him expectantly.

He shrugs. “It’s all right,” he says after a beat, although no one would buy his begrudging attitude, especially not Charlie. The whiskey’s not gonna taste so great after this, not that anyone needs to know that.

She rolls her eyes good-naturedly. “Okay, whatever you say.” Apparently she’s done with Dean for the time being, because she leans forward and looks past him. “You want anything, Cas?”

“Not yet, thank you,” he replies, still working on his first drink. He hasn’t been a lightweight for a long time, but he generally needs to pace himself more than Dean.

Or that’s what Dean thought, at least. It’s been a while since either of them has really indulged like this, and the alcohol’s going to his head a lot sooner than expected.

“Okay, let me know,” Charlie says. “Though if you keep getting drinks for free, I might save myself a couple bucks,” she adds with a wink.

Dean turns and glares at her, but Charlie just gives him an unapologetic smile, airily taking another sip from her glass. He knows she’s just trying to get a rise out of him, but it’s only a few minutes later that the bartender swings by with another drink for Cas from an anonymous admirer. Dean wonders morosely if he’s invisible or something, but he’s not really sure if he’s bothered by the fact that the drinks aren’t being sent to him, or the fact that the people here seem to think Cas is a free agent.

Not that this is the first time something like this has happened. For someone who generally keeps to himself, Cas always gets a lot of attention when they go out, even if it’s nothing but longing looks from afar. Cas doesn’t seem to notice most of the time, but Dean definitely does. People are just drawn to him. Maybe they can sense that he’s something different, something otherworldly and mysterious and magnificent beyond their comprehension. Dean totally gets it.

He’s just not used to the advances being so blatant. Some… _dude_ – maybe the one who sent the drink, maybe someone else entirely – wanders over and slips onto the empty barstool next to Cas’s, a gleam in his eye. Then he catches sight of Dean giving him a dirty look, Dean letting his fingers curl around Cas’s arm before he even realizes that he’s doing it, and he slinks away.

Cas looks over at Dean in response to his touch, a soft, easy smile on his face that totally undoes Dean. The interest he couldn’t bother sparing for any of these random admirers is fixed squarely on Dean, and Cas’s almost comical indifference about people trying to hit on him finally starts to sink into Dean’s brain. He’s being stupid again, letting his insecurities run away with him and ruin a nice evening. When he thinks about it, he’s actually pretty confident in the knowledge that Cas wants him, wants to _be_ with him, has no desire to leave or look for anything else. Cas has told him that so many times, showed him even more often than that, but it still comes as a surprise to Dean that he’s actually started to believe it.

“Another round, gentlemen?” Charlie asks, still nursing her drink, eyeing the bartender and clearly looking for an excuse to talk to her.

“Thanks, Charlie,” Dean replies, just as distracted as she is, though for entirely different reasons.

He quickly downs the drink Charlie gets him, the alcohol loosening him up and, ironically, making him even more clear-headed about the situation. Because if he allows himself to look at things differently, he realizes what a goddamn ego boost it is, that all these eyes are on Cas but he only has eyes for Dean. It doesn’t matter how many people make their lame attempts at picking up a hot stranger, Dean’s the one who gets to go home with him at the end of the night.

He locks eyes with Cas again and finds himself breaking out into a goofy grin. He’s not even that drunk, just riding high on a surge of liberation and how fucking gone he is over Cas. Because Cas is hot shit, of course – it’s no mystery why people are falling all over him – but just being able to have Cas by his side is a heady feeling, gives him a rush he can’t chalk up to the booze. Dean doesn’t keep looking over his shoulder because he’s scared Cas will be gone, he’s just always grateful for the reminder that he’s still here.

A few drinks later, Dean can’t even remember what the hell he was so worried about. Being here with Cas is so great. _Cas_ is so great. Dean wants to kiss him real bad, like… right now.

He always does, and he’s so used to burying that urge until the coast is clear, but—but here he doesn’t have to and isn’t _that_ something? Even at this stage of the game, Dean’s able to be surprised by the things he gets to do. Society in general might still not feel too safe, but there are spaces beyond a private, locked room where this thing with Cas is okay, and compared to what Dean’s used to, that’s a whole world in itself.

“We could totally make out right now,” Dean finds himself thinking aloud as the idea occurs to him. The alcohol is definitely working its magic, and he might be concerned that _too_ much of his self-consciousness is being stripped away, but it’s been a long time since drinking like this made him feel flushed and giddy instead of vaguely miserable, so he’s willing to roll with it. “Those guys over there are doin’ it,” he babbles on, indiscreetly pointing to two men kissing in the corner who look over when he starts gesturing in their direction. Charlie reaches over and lowers his arm, waving at them apologetically. “So, y’know. We totally could.”

Cas smiles at him dreamily, and Dean can see how the liquor’s affecting him too. “That’s awesome,” Cas replies. Apparently he borrows Dean’s dumb phrasing more liberally when he’s drunk, and Dean finds that so fucking endearing.

“ _You’re_ awesome,” Dean fires back, feeling slightly idiotic but not caring one bit. He darts in for a kiss before his loses his nerve. It’s pretty tame, although not exactly graceful, and he breaks away almost as soon as he started. Yeah, that was definitely fun. When is kissing Cas ever _not_ fun? The familiar thrill is still there, even though the context is new, and Dean knows immediately that that brief taste of it wasn’t nearly enough.

Cas seems to agree, cupping Dean’s jaw as they both lean forward again eagerly. Dean notices with surprise and exhilaration that they’re starting with a lot more tongue than they usually do, but _usually_ they’re not both several drinks deep. Dean sighs happily as Cas’s hand settles on his waist, stifles a gasp when Cas is bold enough to nip gently at Dean’s bottom lip. He rests his hand on Cas’s thigh, fingers digging into the fabric of his jeans, frustrated that sitting on a barstool keeps him from getting closer. The part of his brain that’s still functioning tells him it’d be a bad idea to climb into Cas’s lap right now, but it’s getting more and more tempting to do it anyway.

The sound of Charlie clearing her throat – not for the first time, probably – cuts through the fog, and they pull away with palpable reluctance.

“Hey, kids, maybe we oughta move this party somewhere else if you’re gonna do that,” she says, then nods towards the other side of the room. “Let’s grab that table.”

They snag a booth tucked into a relatively private corner of the bar. Dean eagerly follows Cas onto one bench seat, squeezing in tighter than necessary. Why should he be farther away from Cas if he doesn’t have to be? Dean can’t help but be drawn in by his body heat, a knowing but almost shy smile on his face, squirming with the way Cas looks at him in return, eyes dark with unabashed desire. Dean knows he’s noticeably flushed – though he could just blame it on the alcohol – but he doesn’t find himself minding as much as he usually would. It occurs to him that they’re being so damn _obvious_ , but he quickly reminds himself that that concept doesn’t really apply here. He doesn’t have to worry about them giving themselves away by not being careful, doesn’t have to stop himself from doing even simple things that he’d readily do when they’re alone. He still can’t quite wrap his brain around it.

“Here,” Charlie says, suddenly appearing at the table and handing them each a bottle of beer.

“What, not springing for the strong stuff anymore?” Dean asks in mock disappointment.

“You’ll thank me later,” Charlie replies. “Anyway, that cute bartender’s going on break now, so I’m just gonna—” She pauses, grinning. “Yeah. Back in a bit,” she says brightly, flitting off back to the bar.

Dean takes a sip of the beer, not even bothering to check the label. He trusts Charlie’s taste. And he’s not _really_ annoyed that she didn’t get them a harder drink. He doesn’t mind slowing down, wants Cas too bad to risk either of them being too uncoordinated to actually act on that when they get home. Besides, he doesn’t want to be so out of it that he forgets the whole thing either. It doesn’t matter how many times he’s been with Cas, each time, every second they’re together is worth remembering, in Dean’s opinion.

Although if Charlie thought a weaker drink would cool them off a little, she may have miscalculated. They’re long past needing hard liquor to fuel this fire, and if anything, the beer might just be further enabling them; Dean’s finding Cas’s long, thick fingers on the neck of his bottle incredibly distracting, and Cas seems equally interested whenever Dean raises his own bottle to his lips and takes a slow pull.

It’s kind of dangerous to leave them alone right now. Dean knows that Cas gets drunk faster than he does, but what he’s now discovering is that he also gets fucking _handsy_. He leans even further into Dean’s space, his touches technically not indecent but skirting the line for sure. Dean would be embarrassed by it if he weren’t in the same boat himself; he’s damn easy for it, spreads his legs wider for Cas’s wandering fingers, tilts his head just so for Cas to nuzzle at his pulse point, pressing a kiss there that’s too soft for the way it gets Dean going.

Dean practically whines when Cas pulls away to take another swig of his beer, _actually_ whines at the long line of his throat, the way he licks a few drops away and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, staring Dean down the entire time. It might look creepy on someone else—hell, maybe it looks creepy on Cas too, but Dean’s too stupidly into him to find it anything other than a huge turn on.

It’s invasive, the way Cas looks at him. But it’s not like those unsubtle glances before a bathroom hookup, not like the attention he used to attract just for being a pretty face. That intensity is because Cas knows him, _cares_ about him – it’s like he sees right through Dean and by some goddamn miracle he wants more of what he finds there. Dean allows himself to stare back, to not shutter his expression and let his real feelings be exposed for once. Because he wants Cas too, and he isn’t just making space for him to physically get closer, he’s also permitting him room in his life. In his _heart,_ if he wants to be cheesy about it.

All too often they want each other like this but have to pretend otherwise, and now that they don’t have to fake it it’s spilling out uncontrollably – and kind of sloppily, honestly, now that alcohol is involved. Dean is fidgeting in his seat, pinned by Cas’s gaze, genuine arousal coursing through him. That’s just the effect Cas has on him, no matter where they are.

“God, you’re _so hot_ ,” he blurts out, too loud for their close proximity. If he had any hope of pretending the alcohol wasn’t getting to him, he’s just thrown that out the damn window. But he can’t be held fully responsible for his outburst, he reasons, because it’s one hundred percent goddamn true. Sure, the body Cas has ended up with is easy on the eyes – well-muscled shoulders, obscenely huge hands, a cut jaw with a killer five o’clock shadow – but Dean’s not sure he’d have looked twice at Jimmy Novak if they crossed paths in a bar. It’s got everything to do with the way Cas carries himself, that passion and attentiveness that he reserves only for Dean.

Cas offers him a slow smile. “Thank you,” he says, sounding pleased and more than a little smug. Cas likes compliments as much as the next guy, especially the reminder of how much Dean wants him. Dean really needs to do that more often. Cas has had strangers more or less implying the same thing all night and he hasn’t batted an eye. He likes knowing that _Dean_ is super into him because he’s kinda super into Dean too. Dean’s feeling pretty smug again himself. “I could say the same to you,” Cas adds.

“Okay,” Dean replies, with a stupid grin. “Go ahead.”

Cas leans in real close, his lips right against Dean’s ear. “You’re _so hot_ ,” he says silkily, nothing at all like Dean’s clumsy admission. When he pulls back his smile is more deliberately seductive than before, because Cas is a sadistic bastard who knows exactly how easily he can hold Dean in his thrall, and he’s even more shameless about exploiting that than usual, even in a public setting. Dean would find that unfair, but he’s here with this dude who’s crazy hot (and kind, and smart, and supportive, and patient, and—) who wants a piece of Dean and then some, so what’s he complaining about, really?

“You trying to get into my pants, Cas?” he asks, chuckling faintly.

“Yes,” Cas replies with no hesitation. Cas will play along with Dean’s shtick often enough but he also has no interest in being coy. His bluntness can range from embarrassing to hilarious, but here his transparency just makes Dean feel wanted. That’s not a line, coming from Cas.

“Well,” Dean says carefully, licking his lips because he knows just how intently Cas is watching. “You play your cards right, you might just get me to come home with you.” Dean, on the other hand, has no qualms about playing coy.

“Would it be arrogant of me to say that I feel good about my chances?” Cas asks, taking the bait and blatantly staring at Dean’s mouth. His hand is just a warm weight on Dean’s thigh at first, but then it’s moving with purpose, stroking dangerously close to sensitive areas, and Dean wonders if Cas cares so little about propriety that he’d actually go for it, touch Dean right here, hidden under the table. The idea probably shouldn’t excite him as much as it does.

“Nah,” Dean says, trying to sound calm, but his flush probably gives him away. “I like a guy who’s confident.” Then they’re honest to god _making out_ again, and Dean’s never been that crazy about PDA to begin with but the novelty of it here is thrilling, and his inhibitions are low enough for him to actually enjoy it. Besides, who knows when he’ll even have the chance to do it again?

They pause for a breather just around the time Charlie comes sauntering back to their table. She looks triumphant and a little dreamy-eyed, but she snaps out of it when she registers how thoroughly entwined Dean and Cas are. “Uh,” she blinks. “Okay, I’m not gonna ask you where your hand is,” she says, glancing at Cas, “But I am gonna remind you both that this is a classy joint and they _will_ throw you out if you can’t keep it in your pants.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time we’ve gotten kicked out of a bar,” Dean says, lazy grin widening when Cas’s fingers inch a little higher on his thigh. “Usually for stuff that’s way less fun, though.”

Charlie tries to keep up with her stern demeanor, but a fond laugh slips out. “Y’know, maybe we should just call it a night and head out of our own volition.”

“That’s an excellent idea,” Cas murmurs as he and Dean lock eyes, and then in an instant they’re at it again, Cas kissing Dean’s jaw, hand more overtly slipping underneath his shirt.

Charlie groans. “Geez, I left you unsupervised for too long. I’ll settle up and then meet you guys outside, okay?” When they’re too busy to respond, she sighs. “Don’t get arrested for public indecency while I’m gone.”

Dean pulls away long enough to wink at her. “No promises.”

Outside, Dean still can’t quite keep himself away from Cas, slipping in close and toying with the collar of his jacket. “Looks like I’m going home with you after all,” he quips with a teasing grin. Dean only gets a slight quirk of Cas’s eyebrow as warning before Cas is leaning forward again, backing him into the wall of the building and kissing him eagerly. “Damn, take it easy there, hot stuff,” Dean laughs when they break apart again, as if he’s really complaining. Seeing Cas lose his cool always gets him going. “We’ll be home soon.” He pitches his voice lower, aiming for something seductive, but he’s not entirely sure he succeeds, “Then I’m all yours.”

Of course, seduction’s not really necessary when it comes to Cas. Cas smiles at him with undisguised interest and goes in for another kiss, but this time it’s softer, slower, a hint of what’s to come. Suddenly Dean thinks he might be the impatient one here instead of Cas.

“Alright, horndogs,” Charlie chirps, playfully smacking Cas in the shoulder to get their attention as she passes by. “Let’s get a move on.”

Dean suspects it’s only the promise of real privacy in twenty minutes that convinces Cas to peel himself away. It’s not until they get to Charlie’s car that Dean realizes he and Cas were totally out in the open back there, way more of a public display than he’d ever allow himself if he’d thought about it. But it’s too late to panic now, and in hindsight there was no need for it anyway; he and Cas were totally all over each other in mixed company, even _outside_ , and nothing bad happened. If that was what this evening was all about, then he’d have to call it a success.

Dean rode shotgun on the way over – criticizing Charlie’s music for the whole drive and trying to fuck with the dials no matter how many times she slapped his hand away – but now following Cas into the backseat seems like the obvious choice. He knows he’s made the right decision when he’s pulled into another kiss almost as soon as the door closes behind him.

“Oh, I see how it is,” Charlie mutters. “Abandoning me as soon as something better comes along.”

Dean catches her eye in the rear-view mirror and gives her what he likes to think is his most charming smile. “You’re still the queen, Charlie. Nobody better than you. Right, Cas?”

“The best,” Cas agrees vaguely with a lazy grin, and while Dean’s sure he’s sincere, at the moment he seems more preoccupied with getting his mouth on Dean’s again.

It’s a pretty weak and corny attempt at flattery on both their parts, but it seems to appease Charlie anyway. She rolls her eyes affectionately, fighting back a smile. “You guys are lucky you’re cute,” she says with a sigh, shifting the car into gear. “Keep it PG back there, all right? Don’t make me dump your asses on the side of the road.”

Dean turns back to Cas, fully prepared to dive right back in and spend the entire ride making out like over-eager teenagers. But as enticing as the prospect is, something makes him hesitate – some lingering, sensible part of his brain that hasn’t been overridden by lust and whiskey pipes up and suggests that maybe they should put this on pause. Because Dean’s easily worked up by Cas even when he’s stone cold sober, and his blood-alcohol level is not doing him any favors, if his display at the bar is any indication. He doesn’t exactly trust himself not to get carried away right now.

And he _is_ sober enough to be courteous to Charlie, who has been absolutely awesome, so he’s willing to let things simmer for a bit before they get out of hand. Because they could _definitely_ get out of hand.

He knows it’ll be soon enough that they can act on their desires. Besides, it’s not like they’ve never been known to hold themselves back so they can draw out the anticipation. Yeah, the more he thinks about how they want each other, the more he thinks how fun it’ll be to let it build a little more, how good it’ll be once they really give in.

Of course he can’t resist entirely, leans into Cas’s space for another kiss, gratified by the sensation of Cas’s lips on his and the knowledge that Cas can read him well enough to know to keep it relatively chaste, that this is on hold. They can wait.

It’s an excruciating wait though. Dean keeps one hand on Cas’s thigh, not willing to sacrifice that point of contact but determined not to go any further, no matter how difficult Cas makes it.  He’s so _close_ , fingers idly toying with Dean’s belt, lips against Dean’s ear, whispering half-formed sentiments about how he can’t wait to get Dean alone, because he’s an evil bastard with zero regard for Dean’s sanity and self-control. But they both lapse into a comfortable silence after a few minutes, fingers intertwined instead of wandering anywhere untoward. Dean _wants_ Cas, and he knows the feeling is mutual – Cas isn’t exactly subtle about that kinda thing – but for the moment he’s content with just this, just gazing at one another and breathing each other’s air, relaxing and soaking up their shared warmth.

Soon Dean finds himself lulled by the low hum of the engine, head tipping onto Cas’s shoulder and sighing when Cas’s arm circles around his waist and pulls him closer. He’s about two seconds from nodding off when he realizes the car is slowing to a stop. He sits up and scrubs a hand across his face, shaking off the sleepiness. Knowing that their bedroom is only a few yards away definitely has him perking back up.

“Wow,” Charlie says as she puts the car in park, turning around to look at them. “You really did keep it PG. Are you even awake back there?”

“Your crappy music put me to sleep,” Dean grumbles.

Charlie grins at him. “Maybe that was my plan all along.”

They’ve barely made it inside and into the war room before Charlie whirls on them with an expectant look. “So,” she says loudly, clearly proud of herself. “Was I right or what?”

Charlie’s often right about things, more often than Dean cares to admit, actually, and this time is no exception. But he’s not just gonna come out and say it like that, especially after giving her such a hard time. He shrugs, frowning. “I guess.”

Charlie’s eyebrows instantly go up. “That’s it?” she wheedles. “What happened to _you’re the queen, Charlie_?” she asks, deepening her voice in a way that most definitely sounds nothing like him, thanks.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Dean says with a smirk, wrapping Charlie into a crushing hug. “Thank you _so much_ , Your Highness,” he drawls. He gives her an exaggerated smooch on the cheek, and then another, and another, until he’s obnoxiously peppering her face with kisses. “You’re so kind and smart and pretty and—”

“Eww,” Charlie says as she playfully shoves him away, her laugh betraying her amusement, “Keep your man germs away from me. Save that shit for Cas.”

“Okay,” Dean says agreeably, quick to sway back into Cas’s space and plant a kiss on his cheek, feeling it dimple beneath his lips, and damn if that doesn’t make Dean want to smile too. “He likes my man germs.”

“Lucky you,” Charlie replies, and Dean really can’t argue with that. “Well, gentlemen, it’s been a pleasure, but I think my work here is done,” she announces after a beat. “I bid you both goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Charlie,” Cas says, managing to sound polite and sincere even as the hand on Dean’s back is inching lower by the second. “Thank you.”

“Any time, dude,” Charlie says, flashing the peace sign and exiting the room with a flourish.

As soon as Charlie’s out of sight, Cas picks up right where they left off at the bar and drags Dean into another enthusiastic kiss, walking him backwards until he bumps into the table and _damn,_ Dean never gets tired of that.

It was a surprise and a thrill when Dean first learned just what Cas had in him, when he pinned Dean against a piece of furniture and kissed the life out of him just like he’s doing right now.

After a few seconds, that one sensible part of Dean’s brain kicks in again and he reluctantly draws back. “Not that I’m complaining,” he says breathlessly, fingers curled in the collar of Cas’s shirt, “But don’t you wanna go somewhere more comfortable?”

“No,” Cas responds immediately, leaning back in to press his lips to Dean’s throat, and Dean can’t help but tilt his head back to encourage him. “Here is fine.”

Cas is just reaching for Dean’s belt when Dean hears footsteps behind them and glances over Cas’s shoulder in time to see Sam wander into the room.

Sam catches sight of them and stops in his tracks. “Uh,” he splutters, eyes widening. “I—”

“Hey, Sammy,” Dean slurs with a shaky grin, suddenly aware of the alcohol still in his system, especially when looking at Sam, who’s never looked more sober in his life.

“Uh, sorry,” Sam coughs. “Should I leave?”

Before Dean can tell him they aren’t staying, Cas chimes in with a blunt, “Yes,” looking like he’d be happy to continue this very second.

“Dude,” Dean interjects, shifting Cas back and stepping out from between him and the table, breaking into the kind of giddy laugh he only ever allows himself when he’s half in the bag.

At least it makes Sam look slightly less mortified, and he huffs in amusement. “You guys had fun, huh?”

“Yeah,” Dean says with a dopey grin, and when he locks eyes with Cas he decides that it’s not just the whiskey that’s making him light-headed. “We’re gonna go do it now,” he announces blithely, turning back to Sam.

“Good for you,” Sam replies with a tight smile, bordering on a grimace. “Could you at least put some music on, or—”

“Nope,” Dean says cheerfully, Cas already leading him away.

“Great,” Sam says weakly, still audible as Dean and Cas wander out of the room. “Good talk.”

Dean finds himself pressed against their bedroom door as soon as it closes behind them.

He remembers what it was like getting tipsy with Cas before this spark was something he felt he could act on, what torture it was to want Cas so badly, both of them relaxed and happy and stupidly hot for each other. But Dean couldn’t allow himself anything more than that, even when they both knew exactly what was going on between them, when they went out and got drunk together knowing full well it’d make things worse. It was always tempting enough even when Sam was around, but it was complete agony when it was just the two of them, a single hotel room, and a dwindling list of excuses. Even an innocent, friendly touch was dangerous, _electric_. Dean doesn’t know how the hell he survived.

“Remember that case we worked in Indiana?” Dean asks abruptly, feeling nostalgic. “That night you hustled those guys playing pool,” he adds, humming contently as Cas presses his lips to Dean’s cheek, his jaw, his throat.

Dean knows his question seems out of the blue, but Cas, predictably, doesn’t mind. “I remember,” he murmurs, still focused.

“Looked so good,” Dean continues, cutting off with a gasp when Cas’s teeth graze a particularly sensitive spot on his neck. He still thinks about Cas at that bar, unbearably sexy and self-assured, staring at Dean the way that guys did sometimes, but it was different because it was _Cas_. “Wanted to kiss you so bad.”

Dean’s pretty sure that wasn’t exactly a secret at the time, but he’s never really talked about it before.

Cas draws back so he can look at Dean, heated and affectionate. “I wanted to kiss you too.”

That wasn’t really a secret either, but it still kind of blows Dean’s mind to hear it out loud. “You shoulda,” he breathes, and it’s easy enough to say now, to admit how badly he wanted the same thing Cas did, but Dean knows he wasn’t exactly sending off the clearest signals at the time.

“I did,” Cas says with a touch of mirth. “Eventually.” Dean wonders what went through Cas’s mind at the time, what made him decide he’d had enough of Dean’s bullshit and was going to do something about it.

“You totally did,” Dean agrees with a breathy laugh. “That was awesome.” He’s still so damn thankful that Cas made the first move, because his dumb ass would’ve let them dance around each other for a couple more years at _least_.

“It was,” Cas says with a chuckle against Dean’s ear, the low, rough sound of it making Dean’s toes curl.

It’s crazy to think that such a simple thing set them on this path and changed everything. The long term effects of it are what he treasures most, but the situation at hand – Cas’s stubble against his neck, one muscular thigh wedged between both of Dean’s – reminds him of the more immediate aftermath of that kiss, the tension between them finally shattering, losing themselves in one another with unrestrained fervor. “Yeah,” Dean says, fingers winding in the fabric of Cas’s shirt. “Then we, y’know—” He falters, licking his lips. “…Did other stuff.” It’s not the sexiest phrasing he could have chosen, but he can’t really be expected to be articulate when Cas’s fingers are circling one of nipples through his shirt.

Cas lets out a pleased hum and leans in to kiss him on the mouth again. “We did,” he says with a faint smirk as he abandons his gentle teasing in favor of a rough pinch. “That was the first time I got to touch you like this.”

“Yeah,” Dean repeats inanely, stifling a whine as Cas’s other hand slides into his hair and tightens into a fist. Maybe trading sloppy handjobs in a crappy motel seems like an absurd milestone compared to all the shit they’ve been through, but every moment he has with Cas is important in Dean’s eyes. “I think about that all the time.”

Dean’s struck with another dose of déjà vu as Cas unbuckles his belt and eases his zipper down, gets him just undressed enough to get his hands on Dean properly while Dean scrambles to return the favor. That was all they could allow themselves that first time, but now he doesn’t have to content himself with whatever he can get in the shortest amount of time, and he needs Cas naked right this goddamn second, greedy for every bit of skin.

Cas lets one hand sneak behind Dean and inch his jeans down just enough to give his ass a rough squeeze. Dean’s soft moan is muffled by their lips – he loves that confidence on Cas, the way his care and thoughtfulness don’t mean he’s any less passionate.

“I think about _you_ all the time,” Dean confesses without entirely meaning to, mumbling as he feels a blush coming on. His verbal filter has been slowly eroding ever since he and Cas became a thing, and right now it’s nearly obliterated by alcohol and growing arousal.

Cas pulls back a bit and studies Dean’s face, a slight tilt to his head. “Really?”

Dean snorts. “No, I made that up just to fuck with you.”

Cas just barely narrows his eyes, the smirk creeping back onto his face, and that’s the only warning Dean gets before the hand on Dean’s ass come down in a firm swat. It’s nothing hard enough to hurt – not that that would _really_ be a problem – but it’s enough of a jolt to get his attention.

“Hey,” Dean protests weakly, but the way he rocks his hips forward, grinding his erection against Cas’s thigh, gives him away.

Cas is understandably unmoved by his performance and tugs on his hair, smirk widening into a wicked grin when that elicits a whimper Dean can’t quite keep down. “Don’t pretend you didn’t like that.”

Yeah, Dean’s painfully aware that the denial shit doesn’t fly with Cas. He knows Dean too well and he’s not afraid to remind him. And Dean makes that pretty easy for him, goes pliant and lets Cas haul him around and push him onto the mattress, legs splaying wide so Cas can slot in between them.

“That probably just encourages you,” Cas muses.

Dean can’t argue; if that’s Cas’s response to a little sass, Dean’s not exactly inclined to tone it down.

He wonders briefly if they’re in for _that_ kind of night – the look in Cas’s eyes as he stretches out above Dean is definitely promising – but when he settles his weight, pulls their bodies flush together and dips down for another kiss, Dean realizes neither of them is patient enough for anything more complicated than the simple pleasure of just being together.

That’s all he’s wanted for such a long time.

He used to tell himself that an endless string of different partners let him keep things interesting. It was bound to get stale if he stayed with one person, and he couldn’t imagine a worse fate than a boring sex life. But he was so incredibly, absurdly wrong. He and Cas mix things up plenty, for one – turns out that kinda stuff is easier with someone he trusts, and more rewarding – but even if they never did anything other than this, Dean would be more exhilarated, more satisfied than he’s ever been with his more taboo or adventurous hookups.

That was another lie he used to tell himself, that it didn’t make a big difference when feelings were involved. It became clear how grossly mistaken he was the second Cas laid hands on him, kissed him tenderly and held him close like he really mattered – when Dean let him into his space even though he was afraid, because despite whatever reservations he held onto, it only took one rushed instance of long-awaited contact to make him realize that the risk was worth it. It only took one more time, slow and tender in the room they now share, to be absolutely sure that this was all he was ever gonna need.

No one night stand has ever made him feel like this. No fling’s been invited into his home like this, into his _life_.

“Remember after we came home?” Dean asks as Cas sits up so he can slip his shirt off. “The first night we spent here.” In this bed, his mind supplies. _Their_ bed.

“I got to see all of you,” Cas says, lowering himself back down and smiling at the memory. “You were even more breathtaking than I imagined.”

Dean had a similar experience, had just barely gotten to the point where he could own up to thinking about Cas that way and then there he was in all his glory, ridiculously gorgeous and all Dean’s to touch. He still remembers how much closer he felt to Cas, skin to skin, nothing hidden between them.

“You thought about me naked?” Dean asks with a cheeky grin, breezing past a sudden onslaught of emotion, running his hands along Cas’s muscled back appreciatively.

“You know I did,” Cas says fondly, rolling his eyes. “I still do.”

Dean wonders what exactly Cas thinks about. He knows Cas would tell him everything if Dean were willing to hear it, not just the filth but the earnest expressions of affection too. The _feelings_ business used to be a deal-breaker for Dean, and he’s starting to forget why that was ever the case.

Cas looks down at him, a smile slowly forming on his face. “But I don’t have to speculate anymore,” he adds. “I’ve committed every perfect inch of you to memory.”

“Oh, well,” Dean says, trying to sound indifferent. “If you’ve got it all memorized, I guess I can keep my clothes on then.”

“No, I think I could use a reminder,” Cas replies quickly, slipping his hands beneath the hem of Dean’s t-shirt, sliding them up his torso until the fabric bunches and Dean’s forced to take it off.

Cas looks awfully pleased with himself, so Dean has to pull him down and kiss the self-satisfaction out of him, but if anything he only ends up distracting himself. He doesn’t know how Cas can manage this much finesse even when he’s kinda drunk and growing steadily harder against Dean’s hip, how he can channel the rampant lust into something focused and devastating, kissing Dean deep, sweet and dirty all at once.

Meanwhile Dean’s needy and frantic, eagerly arching into each touch, shamelessly wrapping himself around Cas. He’d love to blame his embarrassing display on intoxication, but the reality is that he just can’t get enough of Cas, wants Cas to give him everything he’s got and then maybe do it a couple more times just for good measure. He pouts when Cas pulls away until he realizes Cas is just getting the lube, and then he’s saying a silent prayer of thanks for Cas’s forethought. Dean’s not sure what Cas’s exact plan is, if he has one, but for now he slicks them both enough so they can slide together easily, the friction making Dean’s toes curl.

He can barely take his eyes off of Cas, clutches desperately at his shoulders to pull him closer. Dean lets out an unabashed moan as Cas rolls his hips—the feeling of Cas’s cock against his, the thought of it, the _sight_ of it as he glances down between them sends his arousal skyrocketing, heat pooling in his stomach sooner than expected. Maybe he’d expected something different tonight, something more involved, but this is plenty on its own, more than enough to get him there.

He can tell Cas is really into it too, the way he drops onto one forearm braced beside Dean’s head, his movements more urgent, his breath heavy as he curls closer and touches their foreheads together. Dean sighs Cas’s name, tapering off into a gasp as Cas kisses along his jaw, scrapes his teeth against Dean’s throat.

Dean’s idly wondering which one of them is going to lose it first, but then Cas, the filthy cheater, slips a hand between them to wrap his long clever fingers around Dean’s cock, and Dean knows he’s done for. Even a little drunk, Cas still knows the perfect pressure, speed, slickness—everything he needs to get Dean off with relentless precision. Cas was determined to learn him from day one, thorough and attentive and dedicated to applying each new discovery with care and enthusiasm until Dean’s a sobbing wreck.

“Cas,” Dean breathes, desperate. “Oh, _fuck_ ,” he says around a whine as the building pleasure starts to crest, quick and overwhelming.

Cas pushes himself up to stare down at Dean, eyes wild and rapt, trained intently on Dean’s face. That puts Dean right over the edge, knowing how enthralled Cas is, how much he enjoys this; he’s never tried to hide that making Dean fall apart, _watching_ it happen, was something he was very much into.

Dean gasps and swears as he spills onto his stomach, digging his fingers into Cas’s back and fighting the urge to hide his face because he knows Cas wants to see him. Knowing he’s the subject of Cas’s intense, wavering devotion always makes him feel desirable, _powerful_ , but under those heady emotions there’s always a strange sense of comfort and safety that Dean never wants to let go of.

For a moment Dean just enjoys the weight of Cas pressing him down as his heart rate settles, wraps himself up in that familiar feeling of utter satisfaction. Then he’s whispering encouragement in Cas’s ear as he thrusts against his hip, the crease of his thigh, his breath hot in Dean’s ear. Dean knows Cas is close, the way his rhythm stutters and he bites back a growl, and he lifts his hand to Cas’s face to keep him right where he is, because Dean wants to see too. He never gets tired of watching Cas come – the way his brows knit together in pleasure, groans Dean’s name, slowly grinds his pulsing cock against Dean’s stomach and makes even more of a mess of him. Dean gasps at the feeling of Cas’s come smearing his skin, still babbling in his enthusiasm, not quite drunk enough anymore to voice his thoughts as brazenly as he could, to breathlessly confess how much it turns him on when Cas marks him up like that. Cas knows anyway.

Cas languidly moves against Dean for a few more moments as he rides out his orgasm, kissing Dean deep and then pulling back to let his mouth wander down Dean’s throat, panting his name against his skin. Dean’s flushed and oversensitive, every brush of Cas’s lips eliciting goosebumps, every caress drawing out another shaky sigh.

Once Cas finally comes down from his high and they’re both cleaned up he shifts off of Dean so they can lie together on their sides. Dean doesn’t let him get far, immediately reels him in for a kiss. When they part, Dean smiles gently at Cas, suddenly overwhelmed by emotion now that he’s physically satisfied, feeling strangely shy. “That was good,” he mumbles after a beat, emboldened when Cas looks very glad to hear that. Dean probably doesn’t say that often enough either. “This is good,” he adds. A decent buzz might make him slightly more forthcoming with his feelings, but unfortunately he’s not any better at articulating them.

“Yes,” Cas replies, soft and sincere. “It is.”

Dean could just quit while he’s ahead, shut himself back up before more wayward _emotions_ escape, but he’s just loose and comfortable enough to add more. “You make me really happy,” he says in a rush, forcing himself to keep his eyes trained on Cas’s face, to not chicken out and look away just because he’s making himself vulnerable.

Cas can say this kinda stuff more easily, but most of the time he doesn’t even have to. He just looks at Dean in a certain way – like right now, eyes fond, fingertips gentle on Dean’s cheek – that means _me too_ and so much more.

Dean just has to kiss him again, has to pour everything he has into that one simple gesture because his throat is tight, his heart is pounding, but he doesn’t know what else to say.

“God,” Dean says with a self-deprecating chuckle when they finally break apart. “When did I turn into a sappy drunk?”

Cas hums in response, closing his eyes. “You’re a sappy everything,” he says, teasing and affectionate even as he’s clearly starting to nod off.

“How dare you,” Dean fires back, his attempt at righteous indignation undercut by the way he yawns and cuddles closer to Cas, his eyelids drooping. He’s got a whole rant lined up – _can’t believe you’d say that to me, should kick you outta this bed right now_ – but before he can even get to the first bullet point, he’s out like a light.

It used to be a novelty for Dean to wake up feeling so warm and content, such a rare occurrence that he could easily count the number of instances on one hand. But this is his normal every day now, blinking into awareness with his face tucked against Cas’s neck, Cas’s arm loosely encircling his waist, utterly at peace. He’s loathe to move at all, but he adjusts his position only so his head’s resting more comfortably on Cas’s chest. He’d be perfectly happy to stay just like this for at least another hour, no desire or requirement to face the day just yet, but he only has a moment to enjoy the steady rise and fall of Cas’s breathing before he wakes too.

Cas stretches as much as Dean’s weight on top of him allows, holding Dean even tighter against him. “Good morning,” he says, voice muzzy from sleep and deeper than should be legal.

“Morning, Cas.” Dean shifts around so he look up at Cas. “You feeling okay today? Didn’t go overboard last night, did you?”

“I’m all right,” Cas replies. “What about you?”

“I’m fine,” Dean says with a shrug. He could leave it at that, but— “Kinda got a headache,” he adds, making an abrupt pivot to honesty. Maybe he was wrong about needing to pace himself less than Cas.

Immediately Cas’s strong fingers are raking through Dean’s hair and massaging his scalp, and Dean almost melts on the spot.

“Better?” Cas asks, as if Dean’s almost pornographic noise of gratification wasn’t answer enough.

“Hell yes,” Dean replies with a breathy laugh. “Last night was fun,” he mumbles after a few beats of silence, closing his eyes and leaning into Cas’s touch.

“Which part?” Cas asks, and Dean can hear the hint of a teasing suggestion there, the reminder that they got into all _kinds_ of things last night.

There’s a flippant innuendo on the tip of Dean’s tongue, but he stops for a second to think. Everything after they got home was fantastic – it always is – but he’d be lying if he said it was the only highlight of the evening. Going out with Cas like that, allowed to be somewhere together without fear or paranoia was more rewarding than he’d expected. Like with so many other things in his life, he didn’t realize what he’d been missing out on, what he’d been foolishly denying himself, until he actually got it. “All of it,” he says eventually, and maybe he’s not just talking about yesterday – it’s everything with Cas, every single moment, good or bad or some confusing mix of the two, that Dean wouldn’t trade for anything in the damn world. “You, uh,” He lifts his head up so he can look Cas in the eye. “You make me really happy,” he adds, determined to keep his voice steady.

Cas just smiles at him, still stroking his hair. “You told me that last night.”

“I know.” Dean tries not to blush at the memory, or feel embarrassed for coming about as close to spilling his guts as he ever does, because he didn’t say anything that wasn’t one hundred percent true. “But I just wanna make it clear that wasn’t the whiskey talking. Or y’know,” he pauses, coughing awkwardly. “Not the pink cocktails talking either.”

“Were those good?”

Dean sighs. “Yeah, they were,” he replies, as if it’s killing him to say it. But it makes Cas laugh, and that’s the important thing.

After a moment the amusement on his face fades. “Dean,” Cas says, not so serious that it makes Dean worry, but serious enough to make him listen. He cups Dean’s cheek in one hand, studying his face for so long that it makes Dean want to squirm. “You make me happy too,” Cas murmurs eventually, and Dean knows there’s a depth of emotion there that Cas isn’t voicing for his benefit, but Dean hears it loud and clear anyway. It seems so fucking stupid that that kinda thing used to freak him out.

He doesn’t know how to respond to that other than leaning in and kissing Cas, indulging in the feeling of his solid, warm body pressed up so closely against Dean’s. This could turn it to something more so easily, has done exactly that so many times before, but he’s becoming increasingly aware of his empty stomach, so food might be in order first. They’ll have plenty of other opportunities later.

“Hey,” Dean says, pulling back and stroking Cas’s arm affectionately. “You hungry?”

“I could certainly eat,” Cas says with a casual enthusiasm that makes Dean chuckle.

“Let’s take Charlie out for breakfast,” Dean suggests, because for all that he likes to be difficult just to annoy her, he’s genuinely grateful. She’s done more for him than he’s been willing to admit, maybe more than she even realizes. He owes her one and then some. “Or uh, lunch,” he amends when he picks up his phone and sees what time it is. He fires off a quick text: _hey you up we’re buying you lunch_

Almost sooner than should be humanly possible, Charlie replies. _Much as I’d love to spend more time with you dorks, I’m actually meeting that bartender (her name’s Alicia btw) for coffee in a bit_. Before Dean can respond, he gets another message. _Your girl’s still got it_ , she brags, capping it off with a winking face.

Maybe the bar scene’s behind him, but that sense of victory, feeling like you won the lottery because someone you’re into has shown interest in you, that he’s more familiar with now than ever.

_Sorry to one up you but I went home with the hottest guy in the bar last night_ , he texts back, smiling to himself as Cas sidles up behind him, molds himself to Dean’s back. _Haha still in bed with him as we speak_

Charlie leads off with a string of thumbs up emoji. _Nice work. He seemed like a really great guy_

Dean peers over his shoulder, heart fluttering at the sight of Cas lying next to him, rumpled and relaxed.

_Understatement_

_That special huh?_ Charlie replies. _So is it SERIOUS? Is he the ONE????_

Dean swallows hard. He knows she’s mostly joking, but the question hits close to home. Dean’s never really examined things with Cas in exactly those terms, but now that he has, the answer is ridiculously obvious.

_Yeah. I think he might be._

There’s still a part of Dean that doesn’t think of himself as the settling down type, but if there was ever anything to prove what total bullshit that is, it’s how he feels about having Cas beside him right now – and, well, probably forever.

_Awww, that’s so gross_

Dean snorts at Charlie’s response, staving off the prickle of emotion he can feel behind his eyes.

_Thanks for taking us out_

The sincere gratitude he owes her is a little easier to express through text.

_Anytime bro. thanks for not defiling my back seat. I’ll take a rain check on lunch though. Somewhere nice_

_You got it. Have fun_

_You too ;)_

Dean’s still smiling when he sets his phone down, rolling back over and into Cas’s arms “Charlie’s busy,” Dean informs him. “Looks like it’s just you and me.”

“Okay,” Cas says, sighing sleepily, heartbeat steady beneath Dean’s cheek. “Then we can stay here a little while longer.”

“You know it’s past noon, right?”

“So?”

Dean snorts at Cas’s flippant disinterest. “Didn’t you used to go running at the crack of dawn? What happened to that?”

“It got cold. You’re warm though,” Cas mutters, holding Dean tighter. “It’s hard to get out of bed when you’re in it.”

It’s ridiculous how a sentiment like that can still make Dean blush. “So I’m a bad influence, is that it?” he teases.

“Hardly,” Cas replies, sounding a bit sharper and more awake. “It was my choice to make. Why would I want to be anywhere else?”

Dean’s not sure if it’s intentional or not, but he can’t help but notice the double meaning in Cas’s words—not just Cas choosing to stay in this bed with Dean, bundled up tight in the blankets, but also sticking around for good. Because it was his choice, and this was what _he_ wanted.

The idea of it still makes his eyes prickle, and he can’t chalk that one up to being a sappy drunk. “Well,” he says after a beat, clearing his suddenly hoarse throat. “When you put it that way.”

He fought this for such a long time, and now it sounds so simple when Cas says it like that. He doesn’t know why he’d want to be anywhere either, when he’s got everything he needs right here.

“And then the next time we wake up,” Cas rumbles, “I can say good morning to you properly.”

“Is that offer off the table if I point out that it’d really be ‘good afternoon’?” Dean asks, smirking to himself.

“It would take a lot more than that to dissuade me,” Cas says.

Dean finally feels like he knows that for sure, that Cas doesn’t make promises lightly. He’s not going to change his mind – not about the little things, and not about the choice he made in being with Dean.

“In that case, I’m looking forward to that _proper good afternoon_ later,” he Dean says, eyes falling shut as Cas hums in acknowledgment.

And even if that never happens, even if all he wakes up to is the two of them lounging in bed, drinking their coffee and just enjoying each other’s company, he can’t imagine asking for anything more.

**Author's Note:**

> I was actually working on something else when I realized that it's been almost a year since I updated this series. This fic was supposed to be one I could finish "real quick" and then it turned into all of this. So, yeah. Thanks for reading.
> 
> You can find me [here](http://sass-master-stina.tumblr.com) on tumblr.


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